Amado’s dental records matched. As a final step, we conducted a DNA test with one of Amado’s brothers.

A few days later, the test results were in my hands.

“The two brothers’ Y chromosomes match....”

The report clearly stated that the two shared the same father.

“So it really is Amado.”

I set the report down and asked Ramos,

“What do you think, Ramos?”

Ramos had personally handled both the dental comparison and the DNA test.

He had also met Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, the boss of the Juárez Cartel.

“El Viceroy did call that man his brother. That lunatic wouldn’t fake something like that, so it’s definitely Amado.”

Ramos now seemed completely convinced that the man was Amado.

“There’s no chance he’s another brother?”

“No. All of Amado’s brothers are alive except one.”

“Good. Then we proceed under the assumption that he’s Amado.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

While the identity verification was underway, I had contacted multiple groups for advice.

The American Mafia, the Japanese yakuza, the Chinese Triads, even the Russian Mafia.

Finally, I consulted Chunha Group as well. After combining all their opinions, I reached a conclusion.

“We’ll use the American Mafia’s commission system.”

“A commission?”

“Yes. Each territory is respected, but all major decisions are made through the commission.”

The New York Mafia had once become a target of government and police scrutiny due to constant infighting.

They realized that if they kept fighting, they would all be destroyed.

The five major families ended their wars and began absorbing smaller organizations.

After consolidating them, they created an organization called the Commission, which effectively ended Mafia wars.

Even now, with many bosses arrested and their influence diminished, the Commission still maintained its authority.

It was the reason the American Mafia survived to the end.

Because it minimized internal conflict while protecting mutual profits.

“Gallardo used the La Cosa Nostra-style family structure and failed, so a commission system might work.”

“Gallardo failed because he centered everything around himself. Copying that model directly would be a mistake.”

“Even if we unite under a commission, there are drawbacks. Control weakens.”

Recognizing independent power meant they could leave the commission at any time.

“Yes. I’m aware of that. That’s why I recruited you, Ramos.”

“What can I do?”

“Use your authority as my representative to build a real enforcement organization. That force will handle the execution of traitors.”

Ramos fell silent for a moment.

“Black Bear mercenaries can’t stay in Mexico forever. Once things stabilize, the Mexican government won’t tolerate it. So build a force stronger than Los Zetas. Money is no issue. The Commission will cover all expenses.”

“I’ll try.”

“I trust you. And you—not the Commission—will control that execution force. Black Bear will train them directly.”

“Understood, boss. Thank you for trusting me.”

Perhaps feeling the weight of responsibility, Ramos’s expression hardened slightly.

He stood and bowed.

I patted his shoulder a few times and said,

“There’s no rush. Take your time. Preferably recruit from South America.”

“Yes, boss.”

Creating a system of checks would be something to consider after the Commission was established.

“Now gather all cartel bosses. Contact every cartel of reasonable size except the Sinaloa Cartel. Any cartel that refuses the summons will be erased from Mexico, just like Sinaloa.”

Before dismantling the Sinaloa Cartel, the others needed to be unified first.

“Ramos, can you do it?”

“Yes. I’ll use every connection I have.”

Seeing his confident tone, I let out a small smile.

A few days later.

In Nuevo Laredo, where peace had returned after the fall of Los Zetas, cartel bosses from all over Mexico began to gather.

Kim Muhyuk had chosen Nuevo Laredo as the meeting place because, after Black Bear wiped out Los Zetas, no cartel held power there.

Since the collapse of the Guadalajara Cartel, more than a decade of conflict had left deep scars between the cartels.

That was why this location had been chosen—to prevent any possible incident.

Antonio and Eduardo of the Gulf Cartel, the group closest to Los Zetas, arrived first.

Waiting for them was Ramos.

“What? Ramos, you’re really here?”

To the cartels, Ramos was a name associated with hatred.

“Antonio.”

“Hah. Life’s funny. Because of you, my brother—”

“Let’s leave the past behind. Otherwise...”

Ramos trailed off, giving a subtle warning.

Behind him stood armed Black Bear mercenaries.

Since each boss could bring only one guard, resistance wasn’t even an option.

“Antonio.”

Sensing the tension, Eduardo stepped in.

“We already knew what we were walking into. Stop.”

“....”

Antonio glared at Ramos, then silently walked into the building.

“Sorry. Try to understand.”

Eduardo apologized on his behalf. Ramos nodded slightly.

“It’s fine. I don’t have good feelings either. But starting today, we’ll be working together. Make sure this doesn’t happen again. I don’t mind—but my boss won’t tolerate it.”

At that warning, Eduardo swallowed hard and nodded.

“Are we the first?”

Ramos nodded again.

“Then I’ll go inside and wait. See you later.”

Eduardo extended his hand. Ramos shook it.

“Since you’re the first to arrive, I’ll give you some advice.”

“Advice?”

“The main agenda today—no shared leadership within a single organization.”

“What?”

Ramos lowered his voice.

“You’ll have to choose. Either give all authority to Antonio... or take it yourself. Personally, I’d prefer you as the Gulf Cartel’s boss—but the choice is yours.”

At that moment, Antonio came back out and shouted,

“Eduardo! What are you doing?”

Ramos released Eduardo’s hand and smiled.

“Go on. Your boss is calling.”

Eduardo slowly clenched the hand he had shaken.

To him, Ramos’s smile looked like clear mockery.

Suppressing the killing intent rising inside him, he followed Antonio inside.

One by one, the other cartels began to arrive.

The Tijuana and Juárez Cartel bosses showed no reaction to Ramos.

But the smaller organizations engaged him in sharp exchanges.

Eventually, all the invited bosses had gathered.

Ramos took out his phone and called Kim Muhyuk.

“Boss. Everyone’s here.”

—“Really? Then I should get moving.”

After ending the call, Ramos looked at the building filled with cartel bosses and muttered,

“If I blew this place up, they’d all die. What a waste.”

Only his voice echoed across the empty field.

“Boss, you’re here.”

I arrived at the meeting place about an hour after Ramos’s call.

“No one left?”

“No.”

“Any clashes?”

“There were tense exchanges, but nothing serious.”

“That’s unexpected. Guess there was no point in arriving late.”

I entered the building with Amado and Ramos. Amado nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. I thought a few would walk out.”

“Let’s go in.”

Inside, a large table sat in the center of a modest hall.

It was arranged in a U-shape, with the head seat in the middle.

As we entered, all eyes turned toward me.

Ten organizations were present, including the three major cartels.

About fifteen people were seated, with ten standing behind them.

I walked to the center seat and sat down.

Amado and Ramos took seats on either side of me.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Charlie.”

No one spoke.

“Thank you all for coming.”

Then a man sitting at the far end spoke up.

“Cut the crap. Why did you gather us? ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) And why are you an hour late?”

I stopped speaking and looked straight at him.

“Oscar Nava Valencia of the Milenio Cartel. Why are you here?”

“What?”

“If you’re going to behave without manners, why did you attend?”

He scoffed.

“You’re the one who sent the invitation.”

“I sent invitations to every cartel in Mexico—except the Sinaloa Cartel. Yet only ten showed up. I didn’t force you to attend.”

“....”

“And isn’t the Milenio Cartel loyal to the Sinaloa Cartel?”

“What nonsense! Why would we be loyal to them?”

“That’s what I heard.”

I turned to Amado.

“Oscar. This meeting isn’t something insignificant enough for you to speak freely. Shut up and listen.”

“What?”

Oscar slammed the table and stood up.

“Who the hell are you to talk? What’s your identity?”

“Sit down.”

“What?! Want to die?”

While Oscar and Amado argued, I carefully studied the man standing behind Oscar.

His face looked familiar.

‘Who is that?’

I had reviewed profiles of all major figures attending this meeting.

But I didn’t remember seeing him.

Which meant... it was from my previous life.

“Hey, Mencho!”

“Yes, boss.”

“What the hell are you doing? I’m being humiliated and you just stand there?”

Oscar’s voice faded from my ears.

Only one name remained.

‘El Mencho.’

In my previous life, before I died, he led the largest cartel in Mexico.

The reason his face felt familiar was simple—

He had the highest bounty among all cartel bosses.

Even after his top lieutenants were captured, even after his family was arrested, he was never caught.

Oscar, trying to vent his anger, slapped him and kicked his shin.

“Oscar!”

Amado stood up.

“Do you want to die?”

Oscar stopped mid-motion and glared at him.

“Who are you? Do I know you?”

Before Amado could answer, Javier Arellano Félix spoke.

“Oscar. Lower your voice. You’re not someone who can raise it here.”

“...What?”

“Amado Carrillo Fuentes.”

“What?”

Oscar blinked stupidly.

But he wasn’t the only one shocked.

Except for Tijuana and Juárez, everyone else in the room was stunned.

“Javier... what kind of bullshit—”

I had no intention of listening any further.

“Mencho.”

I called him.

He wiped the blood from his lip and looked at me silently.

“Kill your boss.”

The room froze.

“And you’ll become the boss of that cartel.”